


Delving

by zooeyscigar



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Cute Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Series, Ronan Lynch Angst, Ronan Lynch Has Feelings, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish Fluff, disney prince ronan lynch, i try so hard not to write angst, ronan lynch deserves to have a nice day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-03 00:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13329363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zooeyscigar/pseuds/zooeyscigar
Summary: Ronan was pissed.That was nothing new.Wherein Ronan learns some freaking control for once in his life. Takes a while, though.





	1. 1

Ronan was pissed.

That was nothing new.

Nor was the kind of pissed he felt a new sort of emotion. He'd felt this exact combination of fire and ice before. In fact, he'd felt this precise rage bubble up in him the moment before he’d flung himself at Adam's father, ready to tear him to shreds.

But Robert Parrish wasn't here.

In fact, Ronan was pretty sure there wasn't a bigot in sight, but nevertheless Adam had shrugged Ronan’s arm off of his shoulder as they walked down the street and Ronan was feeling dangerously mad about it.

Not at Adam. Not really. It was more about the system of oppression and the hammering in of fear until it seemed as though it was one with the love they felt for each other. Ronan was guilty of this too — he was Catholic, after all. But he'd learned to live with the guilt like an old friend by this time, able to pat its head whenever it insisted on his attention, then promptly ignore it again.

Adam’s guilt couldn't be divested from his fear. Or his love, which was such a new language for him to speak he was still using the structures of his birth language to express himself.

It was the quick, apologetic glance from him that somewhat eased the mounting tension in Ronan’s body. He scoffed and shoulder checked Adam, who absorbed the bump easily but grimaced anyway. “Ronan.”

When he said it, it sounded like: “Thank you.”

(Thank you for touching me, for believing me worthy of gentle touch, for loving me, for believing me worthy of love.)

It was like a spark landing on a sun-brittled haystack.

All of Ronan’s anger transmuted into fierce, consuming joy, and he whooped and launched himself at Adam in a tackle-hug that propelled them into the alley between buildings.

They struggled, but in play, Adam giggling even as he protested, Ronan using his leverage to wrangle Adam behind a dumpster and shove him up against the brick wall.

The contact was heavy, but it wasn't that which took their breath away. Ronan’s lips were now four inches from Adam’s and it was the only thing either of them could focus on.

Tearing his gaze away from Adam's mouth, Ronan made steady eye contact and said, “I love you.”

When he said it, it sounded like: “We're safe.”

Adam kissed him.

It was the hungriest kiss they'd shared, not because it was fueled by desire, but by a deeper need, one akin to burying your face in a parent's chest while crying, like pressing against an adult's legs when the night's darkness turned sinister, like tumbling into a pile with your friends after an exhausting day of adventuring, sleep at the edges of your vision, safety engulfing your senses just as their limbs blanketed you.

Adam tasted like _home._

Well, not so much like childhood, but like Ronan’s current definition of home. The one that included Monmouth and Gansey and Noah and Chainsaw and Opal and now Blue and Henry too. But mostly Adam.

Adam at the Barns. Adam in the Beemer, the Shitbox, the Pig. Adam in Ronan’s bed, across the breakfast table, in the desk next to him (thank God that’s no more, though the image is burned into his memory). Adam when he's sleepy, when he's cross, when he gives Ronan a real, true smile, when he's miles away thinking so hard he chews his lip.

Adam.

Ronan had never let himself believe he could have this, could be this happy, could feel this level of complex, all-consuming love for someone he hadn't known his whole life. He'd never let himself get this far with Gansey. But then, in some ways they were farther because they took their love for granted. Ronan never wanted to take Adam — the miracle that he was — for granted.

He finally pulled gently away, and the smile on his slick, tingling lips vanished the moment he opened his eyes. He saw tears on Adam's cheeks and glistening in his eyes.

Ronan frowned but didn't have time to ask before Adam was saying, “I dunno. Just... so _much,_ you know?”

“Yeah. Come here.” Adam let Ronan pull him into a tight hug. “I got you.”

“Thank God,” Adam said, a smile in his voice.

“Thought you didn't believe, you heathen,” Ronan grumped good-naturedly with a tight squeeze of Adam’s nape.

“No, but you do enough for the both of us. My statement was imperative, anyway.”

Ronan pulled away with a sneer plastered on his face. “I don't take orders from you.”

“Like hell you don't,” Adam said with a laugh, wiping his tears away.

The sneer’s placement was imperfect, and slipped into a smile on one side. “Shut up.”

When he said it, he hoped to God it sounded like: “Anything for you.”


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can't you just...” Adam waved his outside arm — the one sporting the nice watch Ronan had bought him — in the air vaguely, “dream up another one?”
> 
> “And what? Have a fucking photo shoot while I try not to let it flay me alive?”
> 
> Wincing, Adam glanced at Opal, who had tucked herself more tightly against Ronan’s hip and was inches away from whimpering outright. “Nooo... Just... They wouldn't be trying to kill you anymore, would they? Now that —”
> 
> “Now that I don't hate myself and want to die?”

Adam was pensive.

There was nothing odd about that normally, but when he frowned as he pulled away from Ronan’s kiss there was cause for worry.

“Is Opal doing okay? She seems quiet recently. Sleeping a lot.”

_Opal._ Ronan’s Orphan Girl. His... Psychopomp was such a pretentious term. Spirit animal was appropriative. Inner child was reductive. He turned to look out the kitchen window towards the wide lawn where he fed his animal friends and even just her silhouette against the trees lit by afternoon sun tugged at his heart. _My dream self, but no longer merely the stuff of dreams._

_ My soul. _

Sketchy business, letting part of his soul run around without his body, but it didn’t seem any riskier than Adam scrying every morning before he brushed his teeth.

“She’s... adjusting. Her world’s a lot quieter now.” Ronan wanted to reach for Adam, to bring his boyfriend close again, to pin himself against the counter with Adam’s hips. He resisted the urge only because Adam had turned to the window, thoughtful expression still firmly planted on his brow.

“The Barns must be a picnic compared to a ruined Cabeswater. Or your dreams when the night horrors visited.” He said it without a hint of censure, but it didn’t matter. Ronan was a master at reproaching himself; he didn’t need Adam’s help.

“Yeah, well...” There was no justifying any of it. She got out when she could, and they retrieved her after all hell broke loose. What more could he have done? The fact that they’d all managed to survive was a miracle that Ronan still lit a candle in gratitude for every Sunday.

Adam turned to look at him and didn’t look away. He gently bumped Ronan’s shoulder with his own when Ronan wouldn’t maintain eye contact. The touch pulled a smile out of Ronan, but he was able to twist it into a smirk just in time to save face.

He found himself admitting, “She’s a lot happier now. Feels safe.”

“Yeah,” Adam sighed. “That goes a long way in letting yourself relax. Letting go of the fear.”

Ronan frowned, annoyed at himself for walking into that one. He tried hard never to remind Adam of his past — the storm clouds that passed over his face when he remembered his previous life tore Ronan’s insides up as thoroughly as the night horrors’ claws. And here they were effectively talking about PTSD.

He glanced out the window and noticed Orphan Girl —  _ Opal _ — looking their direction. Did she feel their intention, their focus on her?

Tugging lightly on Adam’s sleeve as he passed, Ronan headed for the french doors and out into the golden afternoon. Adam followed, and the moment they stepped onto the grass, Opal galloped toward them. She shied away from Ronan and circled Adam at a trot, her orbit wide enough to allow movement but tight enough for close inspection.

She obviously adored him, though it wasn’t clear if Adam had fully caught on to that yet. Of course, if there was one thing Ronan had learned it was that Adam played his cards close to his chest. There were still times when Ronan found himself wondering if Adam could even  _ stand  _ him, let alone enjoy his company as much as he insisted he did.

At the most opportune moment in one of Opal’s orbits, Adam blessed her with a soft smile and she nearly tripped on her little hooves to swerve closer to him, skimming just under his outstretched arm. Ronan chuckled and caught hold of Adam’s fingers — they were exactly an arm’s length away — and Opal screeched, pleased to be able to weave her way around both of them and under their arms, describing a lopsided figure eight as they made their way slowly to the forest’s edge.

One thing Adam couldn’t keep from showing was the fact that he was enamored with the dream stag. By now it came right to him when he clicked his tongue, his hand outstretched, inevitably bearing an edible gift. Ronan’s chest tightened as Adam cooed at the creature, but thankfully he was given the distraction of needing to tug Opal away from interrupting the moment.

He almost had a heart attack when he looked over her head at Adam and the stag was sniffing his nose. A bright pink tongue flicked out to lick it and Adam jerked back an inch, then let out a breath and smiled, wide and un-self-aware, before letting the stag lick him once more.

Ronan had to make himself let out his breath slowly, in one long, measured stream. Opal looked up at him as if offended, and wrenched herself free of his grasp. She cantered lightly over to Adam and slid her hand into his — the one that was hanging at his side, not the one that was reaching tentatively out to pet the stag’s velvet nose.

_ He’s going to be the death of me. Or is already. That’s it. I’m dead. _

Ronan shook his head at himself as he made his way up to the little group at the very edge of the treeline. There was too much love inside him, and it would burst out of him if he couldn’t syphon it off somehow.

He rested his palm heavily on Opal’s head, the weight annoying enough she shook it off. Then he threaded his arms around Adam’s waist and hunched over to rest his chin on Adam’s shoulder, watching the stag nibble at his boyfriend’s bent knuckles.

Touching Adam was always a pleasure; it started something humming inside him — or possibly stopped it, everything normally revved up going quiet and still. Hard to tell which. Now, however, where their bodies touched felt warm, as if the life coursing through each of them was trying to reach the other. A delirious rush of happiness dizzied Ronan for a moment before a harsh sound had all four of them looking upwards.

“Kerah!”

Ronan threw himself free of the others and screamed back at Chainsaw, who had left after lunch for what Ronan could only assume was a tour of the perimeter. He lunged up a little hillock on the lawn and screamed again, arm outstretched for her to land on. She circled high above them, no doubt enjoying the soft breeze and the thermals tugging at her to go higher.

His heart soared up to meet her, wheeling above the idyllic afternoon. There was nothing but sun and air and freedom up there, and Ronan was intoxicated by it. Until finally he was tired of holding his arm out like a dork.

“Come down you lazy brat!” he called, as he let his arm flop to his side.

A screech and a low chuckle sounded behind him, and then Opal was at one hip and Adam was lifting the other arm to put around his own shoulders. Ronan took the opportunity to pull him close and kiss his temple. He got a gruff ‘hmph’ and a slow smile for his trouble.

And then Opal screeched again and Chainsaw was diving at a sharp angle toward them. Adam ducked his head when Chainsaw swooped low over their heads, calling to Ronan as she passed. Ronan thrilled at her speed and grace and turned to watch her angle widely and circle around to land on his once again outstretched arm.

“Asshole,” he murmured affectionately to her, letting her rub the side of her beak against his chin.

Having all of them in such close proximity — all the pieces of his heart — filled him with such a deep joy he couldn’t quite breathe.

“You're like a god damned Disney prince,” Adam said with a fond smile, looking back at the stag and noticing the other creatures who inevitably collected near Ronan.

Ronan caught his breath in an amused huff and grinned maliciously. “Except nothing about me is safe for children. Have them gimme a call if they ever want to do something dark as fuck. I got ‘em covered.”

“The design team would have a field day with your night horrors.”

“Shitballs. You're right. Maybe I should sell those fuckers to Guillermo del Toro instead.”

Adam snorted and rolled his eyes. The combo pulled a sharp grin out of Ronan. The joy was still coursing through him, but it was easier to grasp and hold onto in this tempered state.

“You sure you're willing to share?”

Adam had been watching Chainsaw walk along Ronan’s shoulders toward his own but glanced sharply at Ronan, saying, “In what way?”

“All that's left of the horrors is inked onto my back. I'd have to let someone else stare at it for a while.”

For a second, Ronan thought he saw a shiver of jealousy run through Adam. Or maybe lust. He did spend a lot of time in bed tracing the black patterns on his skin. So much, in fact, that Ronan had thought about dreaming the shape a little different to see how long it would take him to notice.

“Can't you just...” Adam waved his outside arm — the one sporting the nice watch Ronan had bought him — in the air vaguely, “dream up another one?”

“And what? Have a fucking photo shoot while I try not to let it flay me alive?”

Wincing, Adam glanced at Opal, who had tucked herself more tightly against Ronan’s hip and was inches away from whimpering outright. “Nooo... Just... They wouldn't be trying to kill you anymore, would they? Now that —”

“Now that I don't hate myself and want to die?” Ronan finished for him, so they wouldn't be dancing around it for the rest of the conversation.

Adam rubbed his cheek briefly against Ronan’s shoulder. The movement looked just like when he rubbed sweat off his temple and onto his own shirt — as reflexive and almost as furtive. But Ronan knew it for what it was: a quick gesture of commiseration and support, a way of showing love without showing anything much. It reminded Ronan of Chainsaw’s ‘beak cleaning’ which was really more like nuzzling.

Ronan cleared his throat. “I dunno. Maybe. You willing to find out? I'm not trying all alone, so if you want it that bad, be ready to join in, Magician.”

“Who said  _ I'm  _ the one that wants this?”

Ronan just looked at him. Adam was the most inquisitive person Ronan had ever met. His default was to learn everything he could about anything that caught his interest. And though the night horrors had scared the piss out of him before, Ronan was willing to bet that just bringing this up was making Adam itch to investigate.

“It’s been a while since we delved together...”

They'd never called it that before, but Ronan knew Adam meant that strange, intimate, outlandish, magical quirk of their talents where Ronan could dream a place and Adam could scry there and the two of them could interact in the same unreal environment.

They hadn't tried it since Gansey had died and Cabeswater had given him back himself. That whole shitshow had depleted the ley line to a faint whisper and completed the dissolution of a Cabeswater already nine tenths of the way gone.

Ronan had told Adam he had plans for a new dreaming place, a Cabeswater 2.0, but either Adam was less interested because he hadn't bargained his body away to it, or he was scared — no, wary — of anyplace Ronan went while asleep until it had been thoroughly checked out. And to be honest, Ronan wasn't sleeping much these days, and dreaming even less.

“You think you could find my new dreamplace without ever seeing it?”

“I could find you in the deepest cave on a dark night, Greywaren, as long as you were near a ley line.” Adam’s smile was sharp.

Ronan licked his lips. “Good. We'll try tonight.” Opal whimpered against him. “After the kids are asleep,” he added in a whisper.

The light gleaming in Adam’s eyes looked exactly like a promise.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t anything like a dragon or a dinosaur or a bird; it wasn’t a logical combination of animals like a hippogriff or a chimera — nothing so recognizable. It was a revulsion that defied reason and made even Ronan question a reality that could produce such an atrocity.
> 
> _Welcome to my head._

The dreamplace was incomplete. Ronan wasn’t ready to put all the stuff he’d been thinking about into it, yet. Right now it was just a placeholder, but he was pretty sure it would work for the experiment. The question was how well the experiment would work. The last thing he wanted was to wake up bloody and/or broken, and make Adam tend to his wounds. 

No, the last thing he wanted was for Adam to be injured in any way. Second-to-last thing was death by night horror, and third-to-last was needing medical attention after it was all over. 

But he had better control over his power now, so none of that would happen. 

He said it again under his breath, as if that would cement its veracity. 

He stepped into the blackness of the space and whistled, as if his nightmare would come when called like a faithful hound. 

An echo of sound resonated behind him and he swung around quickly, only to see Adam step forward. He was looking at the nothing that surrounded them, disoriented. 

“Uh, I like what you’ve done with the place?”

“It’s got good bones but needs some redecorating,” Ronan quipped back.

“It needs some is-ness, honestly. I almost looked right past it, but there was no mistaking your presence.” Adam threw him a quirked smile and Ronan’s heart swelled. God, he was such a sap for this boy.

“Well, it feels like home now that you’re in it, so...” 

Another echo of a sound — or maybe more a reverberation of movement — caught both of their attention. It was the pulse of air from giant leathery wings. 

And there it was, in all its horrific glory — massive black claws and beaks and wings, and the ghastly screech that used to make Ronan’s blood run cold. 

Now he just yelled for it to come to them and land, much like he might have done with Chainsaw. Waving his hand in a wide arc he called, “Oi! Ugly! C’mere!” And in a shocking turn of events, it did that exact thing. 

Adam seemed impressed so Ronan tried to hide his own shock. Maybe the wretched thing really _ did  _ do what Ronan wanted. At least so far. 

Had this always been the case? Had he simply caused so much of his own pain and distress by asking for destruction, whether consciously or no? 

Ronan shook the thought out of his head for now. He needed to keep focused on what he wanted to happen, not what he was afraid might happen, or things possibly could go horribly wrong very quickly. 

Especially when he refocused on the present moment and promptly had a heart attack because Adam had walked right up to the night horror and the two of them were standing several feet apart, looking intently at each other. 

The image was a striking one — Adam, small and frail-looking, tense but unafraid, staring down a huge, ungainly, spidery-limbed, flying abomination who seemed subdued by his attention. Or possibly just as curious as he was. 

Ronan rushed up to both of them before the horror’s curiosity morphed into something else. 

“Seems so tame,” Adam said with wonder in his voice as he examined every part of the horror, his beautiful, fragile body a whole lot closer to the thing than Ronan would have ever wanted. 

“ _ ‘Seems’ _ being the operative word here. Don’t get lulled into doing something stupid.” 

“Says the snake charmer,” Adam said, but with a mollifying smile. 

For a while Ronan allowed himself to breathe easy, watching Adam carefully circle the thing, taking in its immensity and wrongness. It wasn’t anything like a dragon or a dinosaur or a bird; it wasn’t a logical combination of animals like a hippogriff or a chimera — nothing so recognizable. It was a revulsion that defied reason and made even Ronan question a reality that could produce such an atrocity. 

_ Welcome to my head.  _

Adam, for his part, seemed to shed caution like layers of outerwear the longer he studied the thing. To the point of foolhardiness.

“God. Look at it. I just need to...” Adam made Ronan’s heart leap into his throat by reaching out to touch the ink-black feathers on the horror’s leg. The disgusting thing shuddered, ruffling all of its feathers and puffing out its ruff as if trying to look more menacing. As if it needed the help. 

Adam chuckled. “Making yourself look pretty for us, buddy?”

“This monstrosity is not your buddy, Parrish. Look at the eight-inch claws. That beak could snap you in half. The wings are beyond powerful—”

“You look ominous and threatening sometimes, too, but you still let me touch you.” 

“Babe, this isn’t like Chainsaw or Opal. This isn’t a part of...” Ronan trailed off as the night horror crouched down and bent its head so Adam could trail his hand over leathery skin and the sharp curve of a beak. The image of one of the beaks snapping off Adam’s lovely hand materialized in front of Ronan’s eyes. He dashed it from his head the moment it rose up to terrorize him. Instead, he pictured the monster as docile as he possibly could.

As if on cue, it rolled over on its back and showed Adam its belly. It fucking did that. Ronan was agog. 

Adam was delighted. He ran his hand along its ribcage, bones protruding under the skin, then held the taut leather of one wing between his fingers, marveling at the long, stick-like fingerbones that spread through it like stays.

Not one movement or touch seemed to startle or disconcert the menace. It was almost dog-like in its seeming willingness to please. And yet...

“Do you hear distant thunder?” he asked, looking around at the blackness surrounding them.

“No, Lynch. It’s purring.” Adam placed a palm flat on the horror’s side. “Here, put your hand here and you can feel it.” 

“Bullshit.” He didn’t want to touch it. “It’s growling. Step away. Now.”

“It’s not. Look, hon.” Adam was stroking the horror’s neck feathers, and it actually did look for all the world like it was enjoying itself — beaks half-open, eyelids half-closed, and the rumbling sound from within it getting stronger by the minute. 

“Fuck snake charmer. I’m not the one in charge here. Should we call you Cesar the horror whisperer?” 

Adam huffed a soft laugh. “It’s your fault he likes me so much.”

Ronan wiped a hand over his face, then briskly rubbed his stubbly head, at a loss. 

But maybe there really was something to the theory that Ronan had control over the horror somehow, whether it was because the cursed thing was a part of him or not. And yet... What if it was Adam’s being near him that helped Ronan have this much control? There was no way to know what the answer was, but Ronan had complete faith in his magician to defy all odds as well as every expectation. And also to save his fucking life just by being there. 

To be fair, Ronan would have given his left testicle — his left  _ everything,  _ honestly — to not let any harm come to Adam, so if it was simply a matter of motivation to help Ronan find the control he needed to keep the horror in line, there was none better than his beautiful, magical boyfriend’s safety. 

He took a step back to watch Adam and the horror together. The sight was not only mesmerizing, but actually calmed Ronan’s stuttering heart. Finally soothed as though Adam’s hands had been on  _ him _ and not the horror, Ronan stretched and hummed. 

The night horror spread himself out on the ground, fearsome wings at their full span, grim and ghastly limbs splayed, hideous head thrown back as if in pleasure. Adam cooed at the creature as if he’d done something clever. Ronan told himself he didn’t hear the words “Good boy” out of his boyfriend’s mouth because that would have been absurd. And frankly would have wrecked him. 

Ronan found himself no longer looking at the horror as if it was put together wrong, fashioned from the most terrifying images he’d ever seen, and instead imagined that it (he?) resembled Chainsaw. Or, more astoundingly, himself.

The way Adam was treating the horror like a skittish but friendly beast was... well. It was a  _ lot.  _ Too much, as a matter of fact. And when the horror clumsily tried to rub one of his beaks against Adam’s chest, Ronan gave up.

“I’m waking up now.” He cleared his throat but then didn’t add anything else.

“What? Why?” Adam’s attention was finally pulled completely to Ronan, but his hands were still on the horror, and Ronan’s heart skipped a beat. 

Not because he was afraid the creature would do anything to Adam while he was distracted, but because Ronan knew he wouldn’t. And so did Adam. 

“I gotta... Just, can we go now?” Ronan shifted his feet and the horror stopped purring. He clacked his beaks as if agitated and Ronan closed his eyes and swallowed. “Please.”

“Okay...?” Adam took a step away from the beast and reached out to touch Ronan. He shied away. “What— Are you all right, Ro?”

“I really need you to touch me.”

“Of course, hon—” 

Adam moved to hug Ronan but he backed away again. Adam’s frown, on top of everything else, nearly broke him. “I need the real you to touch the real me. Please, let’s go home.”

“Okay. Go. I’ll follow.” 

The last thing Ronan witnessed before waking was Adam’s determined nod, compassion shining in his eyes. That and the night horror’s scream. 

Not a scream, he realized, opening his eyes to see the ceiling fan in the den and sitting up. It was a call of some sort, a mournful sound. The odds weren’t good, he had to admit, but Ronan deeply hoped that call didn’t translate to:  _ Don’t leave me. _

A moment later Adam turned to him while still blinking expression back into his face, consciousness back into his eyes. When he was fully back, he launched himself at Ronan, bowling them both over as he squeezed Ronan so tightly he grunted. 

“Hey,” he wheezed. He wrapped his arms around Adam’s shoulders, and was back to staring up at the ceiling fan, this time with an embarrassingly tearful smile on his face. 

“I love you so goddamn much. All of you.” Adam’s fervent voice was muffled against Ronan’s shoulder, but that only made the assertion more powerful. 

Ronan combed his fingers through the back of Adam’s hair and nodded; the lump in his throat barred any verbal response. 

They just lay there quietly for a while, heartbeats nudging each other, the rhythm of their breathing lining up as it slowed down. There was no way to describe how badly Ronan needed this, not so much for the intimacy, but the buffer it allowed. 

This connection of their flesh-and-bone selves, while letting them feel close, left him much less vulnerable than when they were inside each other’s heads. A minute ago, Adam had been scrutinizing and palpating every last drop of Ronan’s self-hatred and inner darkness made flesh, and it had been excruciating. 

Cuddling like this was so much easier. It was a simple animal comfort that didn’t leave him laid bare, all nerve endings exposed and twitching. It was something of this world — the mundane, waking world — that was so much less dire and fathomless than the subconscious, thank God.

Lying down and holding each other in this way was also one of the few times Adam, terrifyingly powerful magician that he was, gave himself over fully to relaxing and being comforted, and at the moment he seemed truly content. And for Ronan, there wasn’t anything that could delight him more than a happy Adam. 

So when Adam raised his head to rest his chin on Ronan’s sternum and murmur, “Better?” there was no answer Ronan could give but, “Yes.” 

He prayed that it sounded like: “Thank you for loving even the worst parts of me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Tara and Brynn for the last minute beta on ch 3, I really appreciate it. <3


End file.
